Acquiring the Hopelessly Bankrupt Guild (1)
I slowly urged my horse along, basking in the warm late-summer sun. It had been three days since leaving the imperial capital. The surrounding landscape, which had gradually been changing, now fully exuded the fairy-tale charm unique to the Nant Duchy. Under the dazzling sun, vast vineyards blanketed the rolling hills, kissed by a cool breeze. It was grape harvest season, so the fields teemed with workers. In one corner, people were stomping harvested grapes barefoot in enormous vats. An intense, heavy sweetness and aroma wafted from the fruit crushed under the feet of lovely young women. It was only fitting for the birthplace of the continent's most renowned wines.
A little farther back, a city faintly shimmered in the distance. That was Schlessi, the border city of the Nant Duchy. Nailed it. I planned to set up and run a guild there—one of the game's various content features—as a way to chill out. I had a decent amount of money, and all the game's lore and worldbuilding was etched in my mind. Basing a guild on that knowledge should keep me comfortable without worrying about survival. I'd long since given up on returning to my old life, so might as well enjoy this one to the fullest.
Lost in such pleasant thoughts as I followed the road, I spotted armed cavalry approaching from the opposite direction. They looked like the duchy's border guards.
"Hey, over here."
The lead rider spotted me and beckoned. It seemed a bit rude for a first-time traveler, but this was border territory. The Nant Duchy was lenient; in another country, they'd probably already be drawing swords and bellowing for me to dismount. Border areas were crawling with wanted criminals, bandits, and all sorts of scum.
"Let's see your identification."
I pulled out my papers, and the guard read them before asking, "What's your business in the duchy?"
"I'm immigrating. I tried Nant wine once and fell head over heels. You know how the empire's booze tastes like sewage."
Praising the duchy's pride-and-joy wine instantly brought a smile to the guard's face. "Our wines hook plenty of folks. We get a fair number immigrating for that reason."
His tone much friendlier now, the guard pointed down the road. "Keep straight on this path, and you'll hit Schlessi. The city hall should be able to help."
"Thanks for the info."
"No problem. Good luck."
I waved goodbye to the border guards and continued on. The late-summer sunlight was warm, the air fragrant with grapes. The Nant Duchy was truly the perfect place to start a second life.
A few more hours brought me into Schlessi. I navigated the bustling streets lined with buildings gleaming white in the sunlight and headed for the city hall as the guards had directed. I tethered my horse and entered the lobby, where a laid-back official who seemed to handle visitors looked up and smiled.
"Welcome. How can I assist you?"
"I'm here to immigrate to the duchy."
The official directed me to the complaints office. "I'm here for duchy immigration. Grangtest Empire citizen," I announced at the door. A face peeked over a nearby partition.
"This way, please!"
It was a young woman with short black bobbed hair who greeted me. She was small even sitting down—almost like a half-elf at a glance. But her eyes and ears confirmed she was fully human. Just petite and baby-faced.
"Hello. I'm Clemence, the immigration clerk." She introduced herself with a dimpled grin.
"Leonar. Nice to meet you."
"First, may I see your identification?"
I handed it over, and Clemence swiftly copied my details onto a blank form. She was practiced—clearly, plenty of other imperial citizens had passed through before me.
"Hmm, Mr. Leonar. What was your occupation in the empire?"
"Demon hunter."
"Ah, yes. Demon hunter... Yes?!"
Her shout made everyone in the office jump and stare. "Is there a problem with demon hunters immigrating?"
"Haha, no, not at all. Just... surprising." Blushing with embarrassment, her dimples deepening, Clemence continued filling out the form. "So, um, are you planning to continue demon... hunting in the duchy?"
"Nah. I'm thinking of starting a small guild here in Schlessi."
"What kind of guild? A craftsmens' association?"
"Mercenary guild. Regular hires, not short-term gigs."
"Hmm, a regular-employment mercenary guild. Okay..."
She finished the form and pulled out a tattered book from her desk corner. The title read something like Laws on Guild Establishment and Operation.
"Perfect timing. I handle that too. Though I was just assigned, so I'm not super familiar yet. Things have been so busy, I haven't had time to get up to speed..." She giggled sheepishly again. Seemed like she defused awkwardness with smiles.
"Let's see... guild establishment, qualifications..."
Flipping pages and tracing with her finger, Clemence found the section and read verbatim: "Article 1: Guild Establishment. Paragraph 1. Those seeking to establish a guild must meet the following qualifications. First: Possession of a diploma from an academy recognized by the duchy."
She glanced up at me. "Did you graduate from an academy?"
"Academy? No. Never went."
"Oof, that's a roadblock right out the gate... Next."
Frowning, she read haltingly: "Second: Those with ten or more years in a related field within the duchy... You don't qualify there either, right?"
"Obviously not. So I can't start a guild without that?"
"Afraid so... That's the law."
I hadn't seen this coming. An academy diploma for a mercenary guild? What kind of nonsense rule was that?
"It's to prevent guilds popping up everywhere, degrading service quality, and harming the duchy overall... with more professional qualifiers, um..."
Academy? No time or money for that crap. As I stayed silent, Clemence leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "There's another way, though. A bit of a loophole..."
"What's that?"
"Put up a figurehead guild master. You run the show behind the scenes."
"Figurehead? Would anyone agree to that? If they qualify, they'd just run it themselves."
"True, but failing guilds on the brink sometimes make those deals."
"Really? Who'd buy a sinking ship like that?"
"They do sell. Way cheaper than starting fresh."
She pulled out an abacus and clicked away busily with her small hands. "Guild HQ building and training grounds, business registration and all related taxes, plus guild association fees and five years' annual dues upfront."
She spread her fingers wide. "Fifty thousand gold coins."
"Whoa, that's steep."
"And academy tuition's extra. So buying a failing guild and using a figurehead might be smarter. They call it a 'manager guild' sometimes."
It made sense hearing her out. "But can a civil servant just tell me about loopholes?"
Clemence panicked, eyes darting. "I-I was just mentioning it exists..."
She was so adorably flustered that I couldn't help smiling. "Got it. I'll think it over. But are there any of those near-bankrupt guilds here in Schlessi?"
Leaning in even closer, she whispered, "One place. I think you'd like it, Mr. Leonar."
So this is it.
The address on the note Clemence gave me led to this two-story building tucked in a narrow alley off the main streets. It must've looked sleek when new, but now it was faded, worn, and grimy. The famously failing guild? It didn't stand out from the surrounding buildings.
Guess I'll check inside.
I knocked, and muffled sounds came from within—maybe "come in," maybe "who is it?" I just opened the door and stepped in.
"Ugh, what?"
The first welcome was a stench of booze. Curtains drawn despite the midday sun made the place dim; my foot immediately kicked an empty bottle.
What the hell. Clemence said it hadn't shut down yet.
"Anyone here?"
"C'min..."
A slurred voice mumbled from the back. Turning, I saw something lurch up from the sofa—a disheveled blonde woman scratching her neck and staring blankly at me.
Is she the guild master...?
